words of the song and
to get some notion of the tune.

She had lunch with Mr. and Mrs. Lange and Katy, whose hair was
very golden indeed and whose voice and manner proclaimed the
Bowery and its vaudeville stage. She began by being grand with
Susan, but had far too good a heart and far too sensible a
nature to keep up long. It takes more vanity, more solemn
stupidity and more leisure than plain people have time for, to
maintain the force of fake dignity. Before lunch was over it
was Katy and Lorna; and Katy was distressed that her duties at
the theater made it impossible for her to stay and help Lorna
with the song.

At the afternoon rehearsal Susan distinguished herself. To
permit business in the restaurant and the rehearsal at the same
time, there was a curtain to divide the big room into two
unequal parts. When Susan sang her song through for the first
time complete, the men smoking and drinking on the other side
of the curtain burst into applause. Johann shook hands with
Susan, shook hands again, kissed her hand, patted her shoulder.
But in the evening things did not go so well.

Susan, badly frightened, got away from the orchestra, lagged
when it speeded to catch up with her. She made a pretty and
engaging figure in the costume, low in the neck and ending at
the knees. Her face and shoulders, her arms and legs, the
lines of her slender, rounded body made a success. But they
barely saved her from being laughed at. When she finished,
there was no applause so no necessity for an encore. She ran
upstairs, and, with nerves all a-quiver, hid herself in the
little room she and Katy were to share. Until she failed she
did not realize how much she had staked upon this venture. But
now she knew; and it seemed to her that her only future was the
streets. Again her chance had come; again she had thrown it
away. If there were anything in her--anything but mere vain
hopes--that could not have occurred. In her plight anyone with
a spark of the divinity that achieves success would have
scored. "I belong in the streets," said she. Before dinner
she had gone out and had bought a ninety-five cent night-dress
and some toilet articles. These she now bundled together again.
She changed to her street dress; she stole down the stairs.

She was out at the side door, she was flying through the side
street toward the Bowery. "Hi!" shouted someone behind her.
"Where you going?" And overtaking her came her staunch